


I Thought My Love A Liar

by RobinLorin



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinLorin/pseuds/RobinLorin
Summary: Of all the reactions Treville had been dreading when he walked into the throne room after three days of pretended death, Richelieu’s had been the most unexpected.





	I Thought My Love A Liar

Of all the reactions Treville had been dreading when he walked into the throne room after three days of pretended death, Richelieu’s had been the most unexpected. 

Treville had barely paid attention to the others – the king’s roar of delighted laughter, the queen’s gasp of surprise, the dozens of courtiers whispering to each other. He had eyes for no one but Richelieu and the terrified look on his face. 

Treville had seen too many men stabbed to forget exactly how a man looked when he’d been gutted. The discovery of betrayal, a long moment of pain, and the flicker of relief when he realized that the pain would soon end. All this had passed over Richelieu’s face before he closed his eyes, recovered his mask of implacability, and turned toward the king. 

Treville had torn his eyes away from Richelieu’s, and had done his best to ignore the cardinal while he gave his report to the king. All of Treville’s reasonings for faking his own death in order to lure out a would-be assassin suddenly seemed flimsy and foolish; though when he gave in and glanced over at Richelieu again, the other man’s face was long with apparent boredom. 

Treville took his leave as soon as he could, in no mood for the king’s effusive praise; suddenly his nerves were jangling with doubt and guilt, sparking against his earlier weariness from successfully executing a dangerous mission. 

He stopped stock-still in the middle of a long, empty hall, when he heard the footsteps behind him. He knew every movement of Richelieu’s body; knew his step like he knew his own. 

“A most thrilling escapade,” Richelieu said, his voice echoing sharply in the cold hall. “I did not know that the Musketeers’ code of honor valued deception above trust.” 

“It was not a matter of trust,” Treville said, half wary. He did not move, only turned his head a little, and for some reason he couldn’t look Richelieu in the face.

“It seems so, when you failed to let us know of the most crucial component of your plan. We thought you were dead.” 

“I couldn’t let word get out, and my sneaking into the palace–”

“ _I_  thought you were dead!” 

The echoes of Richelieu’s shout faded slowly. Then the silence was undercut by a soft rustling: Richelieu smoothing his robes, straightening his mask. 

“I will do you the courtesy you have withheld from me,” Richelieu said quietly, “and promise that if I ever plan to leave you, it will not be in deceit. I will not perform such a cowardly act as you have today. When I die, I will not have the  _audacity_  to come back to life.” 

And then he swept by Treville, his heavy cardinal’s robes sweeping the ground and brushing Treville’s shoulder; not a caress, but a deliberate shove. Treville was left frozen in the hall, his hand laying uselessly on his sword. 

Years later, when Treville received word of Cardinal Richelieu’s death, he remembered that moment; and his hand snuck once again to the pommel of his sword. It lay there, useless against the promise made long ago. 


End file.
